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They Call Me 'The Browser.'

Last night was another karaoke-filled evening of fun with Girl-E and Agent Courtney. Mary Mary was back after last week's crushing absence, leading us to new heights of amateur (singing, that is) ecstasy. As an added perk, there was some...dancing last night that had to be seen to be believed. I think it was Agent C who put it best when she theorized that this one woman in gold pants, sequined tank top, and phenomenal shag haircut moved like Tina Turner's "special" sister, hidden from the limelight but shaking her thang the best she could in the dark corners of JP. It was something else, as was Special Tina's boyfriend, specializing in the My Rhythm Comes From Outer Space, Mortals dance, and Frolicking Bearded Man With Glasses, who later treated us to a rousing, enthusiastic, if largely inaudible version of You Oughta Know.

So as I was sitting around thinking up nicknames for people last night, I realized that I, myself, am not entirely safe from receiving a moniker of my own. I refuse to speculate about what sort of dancing name I might receive - that way madness lies - but here's what I do every time I show up at karaoke: I sit with my songbird friends, I clap and cheer, I support them wholeheartedly...but I do not sing. Instead, I look through the karaoke book and theorize karaoke performances. I even go so far as to jot down titles in my notebook, dreaming of how I might reinterpret Billy Idol or Englebert Humperdinck...but I never fill out the little form and put my "prowess" to the test. I smile coyly and I say, "maybe next time." This is my function.

They call me "The Browser." I do not commit. I do not lay it on the line. Possibility, not actuality, is my milieu. The singing will be confined to in front of the bathroom mirror until such time as I get up the nerve to shed my comfortable identity and step up to the mic.

The thing that sucks, though, is the expectation thing. Even the karaoke regulars are starting to ask when I'm going to finally get up there, and the pressure is getting tough to take. The more I bat my eyes and defer, the more I tease, the greater the hopes will be when I finally take the stage. There is a tradition, referenced in movie after movie, sitcom after sitcom, that when those who are shy and retiring finally overcome their fears and do whatever it is that scares them the most, they will exceed even their own wildest dreams and unleash the star within. This is a very bad thing to have to live up to. To be honest, I'd be lucky to have my voice last for one entire song, so unaccustomed is it to belting out anything, let alone staying on key.

I'm just terribly nervous, because if I were to do the karaoke thing, I'd hate to disappoint Centrifugal Ass Girl, White-Man Dancing Man, or The Floor-Humpers. That would be a shame.